


desire

by mitsukyu



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Indie Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukyu/pseuds/mitsukyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taehyun just wants to make music. ("We're gonna be great," Mino assures him.) </p>
            </blockquote>





	desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Originally written for [winner exchange 2016](http://winnerexchange.livejournal.com)

At twelve years old, Taehyun decides he wants to be an idol. Face pressed against the television screen, he watches TVXQ dance and sings along under his breath. At sixteen, he quits sports and spends hours practicing the piano, hours more going to endless, hopeless auditions. 

All to become a sparkly sparkly pop star. 

Now he's twenty-two and he decides that idol companies, like so many dull factories, would only impede his artistic vision. 

Mino snorts and reaches for another beer. "Artistic vision, my ass." 

"I can have an artistic vision," Taehyun protests. He's drunk on cheap beer and soju. He can feel his head bubble like his blood is red champagne. 

"You just never got through auditions, you pretentious asshole." 

Mino had, long ago. The idol world had chewed him up and spit him back out. Now here they are,  together on a ratty couch in a shitty rooftop apartment, sharing a six pack of beer. 

"I just want to make music," Taehyun sighs. 

"Yeah," Mino agrees, draining the last of his beer. "Yeah. Don't worry. We're gonna be great." 

 

They're going to be great, Taehyun tells his fogged over reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

 

The stairwell stretches into infinity, an Escher drawing of impending doom. 

"Yeah. Let's go somewhere else?" Seunghoon says, shoulders hunched under the weight of his bass guitar strapped to his back. 

"Sure. Where do you propose we go?" Taehyun asks. Sighs. He took the night shift at the gas station to get the day off. He's tired and he knows there's nowhere else, not really.  

Seunghoon squints up the stairwell again and bites his lips in thought. 

"My parents have a garage," he says finally.

"Your parents live in _Busan_ ," says Jinwoo. 

Seughoon shrugs and gives them a look. _I tried, now you._ Taehyun's got nothing. It's not like he's happy about this. But he supposes — he supposes he has to be grateful that they have a place to practice, with a roof over their heads. Grateful that Mino's roommate has moved out, destined for bigger and better things.

He tries to say as much but _grateful_ turns to acid in his mouth. 

"It'll be fine," says Mino the eternal optimist. He claps a hand on Seunghoon's shoulder, grins at them all. "Don't worry so much. It's only temporary. And anyway, it's better than some basement dungeon." 

"Whatever you say," Seunghoon allows, eyeing Mino with little confidence. 

Between the four of them, pushing and pulling and shouting, they manage to get even Jinwoo's drum kit up the endless flights of stairs. They push the ratty couch up against the far wall to make space. Their instruments look like giants crowded into the tiny room. Mino nods in satisfaction. 

"This works," he says, in the face of all evidence. 

"Yeah," says Jinwoo, tentatively, when Seunghoon and Taehyun remain silent. Seunghoon gives up and edges around Mino's keyboard to get to the kitchenette. He puts on water for tea. Taehyun drops onto the couch, head lolling against the back.

"That's not very rock star of you," he says as Seunghoon starts pulling open kitchen cabinets, peering inside of them with ever increasing consternation. It surprises a laugh out of Seunghoon, loud and sudden. 

"None of this is very rock star, Nam Taehyun." He shakes his head, a half-incredulous smile on his face. "I can't believe we're really doing this. I also can't believe" — he glances at Mino over his shoulder — "that you don't even have four mugs? But you do own twenty shot glasses." 

Mino shrugs. 

"D'you even own tea?" Taehyun mutters out of the corner of his mouth. Mino makes a face.

"Jihoon's mom bought us a packet once, I think." He raises his voice. "There's glasses under the sink, hyung!" 

Seunghoon gives him an exasperated look, but apparently decides that tea from lemonade glasses is at least marginally better than tea from shot glasses. 

"Anyway, I think this is all pretty rock star," Mino continues. "Apart from the drugs." 

Jinwoo looks alarmed. "You have drugs?" he hisses. 

"What? No, I was just saying—" 

"We'll get high on music," Taehyun interrupts primly. Seunghoon kicks the cabinet under the sink closed with a bang. 

"God save us all," he says. 

 

Taehyun sinks into the couch, strumming his guitar and letting his tea grow cold. He wants — no, it's _important_ to create something that is true and real. All he can do is offer up his feelings to the music and let it consume them. To make something that matters. To make _art_. 

They don't understand, he thinks. Mino, _of all people, Song Mino_ , probably understands best and that is truly tragic. 

He's not sure where Mino even found the other two. He's picked up the vague idea that Jinwoo is Mino's sister's boyfriend. Or wants to be. Seunghoon claims he's from Busan, but Taehyun privately suspects he's climbed out of the very depths of hell.

Could still be Busan, he allows. 

The thing is, he plays like a demon, too, they both do. They may not understand him — and Taehyun has all but given up on finding people who do; maybe one day, _one day_ he'll be able to create something good enough to explain all he truly feels — but they play with fire in their eyes and running through their veins and Taehyun's soul gets whipped up in a frenzy, caught in the perfect storm of their music. That's why he needs them, desperately needs to keep them, and why his only protest is cold tea down the drain. 

He makes cup ramen for all of them an hour later to make up for that, as the others hesitantly, starting and stopping, squinting and searching, play through the song he wrote yesterday. 

Under their hands, in the grip of their fingers, it slowly comes alive and Taehyun can breathe. 

 

Seunghoon comes into practice two weeks later more triumphant than he's ever seen him before. Jinwoo squints at him suspiciously. 

"Lee Seunghoon, did you get laid?"  

"Better," Seunghoon claims, only rolling his eyes a little. Jinwoo makes a disbelieving little noise. 

"Did the elevator get fixed?" Mino pipes up hopefully. 

"No. Way better." He grins broadly. "I got us a gig. Multiple gigs. Possibly. If we don't fuck up too bad. Please don't fuck up too bad." 

They stare at Seunghoon, at each other, back at Seunghoon. Stare long enough that Seunghoon squirms. He lets out an uncertain bark of laughter. 

"What? I just told you I got us a gig, not that we're going to Mars! We're a band. Our goal is to perform, yes?" He fold his arms. "Or are you guys only here to kill time? Because I can think of far better ways to—"

"Don't be absurd," Taehyun interrupts, scowling. "Don't pretend you're the only one who takes this seriously, because I think—" 

"Can it, you two," Mino interrupts. He jumps up, grin on his face. "Taehyun, aren't you listening? We've got a gig! This is fucking amazing." 

"Is it?" Seunghoon asks, flinging himself onto the couch. "I really couldn't tell looking at your faces." 

"It is!" Mino thrills. "We should celebrate." 

"We were just surprised!" Jinwoo laughs, reaching over to pull Seunghoon in a hug. 

"Yeah," Mino agrees, eyes wide. "Me and Taehyun, we've been trying to find somewhere that'll let us play for _ages_ " — Taehyun glares at him, trying to fry him into silence, but Mino ignores him — "but we got nowhere."

Seunghoon smirks and leans over to pat Taehyun on the shoulder.

"I guess that's what happens when you get high on music." 

Taehyun huffs. 

"It's a good thing we have you both," Jinwoo says diplomatically. 

He would have gotten them out there too, Taehyun tells himself. Eventually? It's just that the music itself is the most important part. Yeah. 

_They're going to be great._

 

The venue is a back alley bar, dim and cramped. An inefficient air conditioner puffs in a corner and in the August evening his shirt clings to his back and he clutches his guitar in hands clammy with sweat. 

He wonders if he'll even be able to hear the music over the insistent thump of his heart. 

He blanks, for a split second, staring at the precious few faces down in the semi-dark. He doesn't know what to say. Mino steps in before he can regroup, insinuates himself between Taehyun and the microphone stand, bright smile in place. Taehyun despises him just a little. 

Mino introduces them as _Winner_ — Jinwoo's idea and a name that makes him feel strangely vulnerable in the dirty light of the dingy little bar. Mino makes a joke, probably. Taehyun can't focus on his voice but it's followed by pleasant laughter from the small crowd. Mino has that effect. 

_One_

_two_

_three_

The sound of Jinwoo's drums fills the space and Taehyun releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Everything around him falls away except for the music. The song is all there is, no world between him and it. His voice works fine just as long as he sings. 

 

They're good enough that they're allowed to come back, although Taehyun doesn't know what, if anything, that says about them. Probably the dirt under his shoes would be talented enough to play in this dump. 

"Hm hm," Seunghoon hums around a mouthful of the complimentary beer that tastes like piss. His eyes are crescents and he presses the back of his hand against his mouth, trying to hold back a smile. 

"What?" 

"You're beaming, you know that? Don't pretend this is all beneath you, Lord Nam Taehyun. You're having the time of your life," Seunghoon accuses cheerfully. 

"It's a start," Taehyun admits. Seunghoon laughs in his face and clinks their glasses together. 

 

"Stop being afraid," Mino mumbles later. He's tipsy, body loose, and he presses up so close against him that Taehyun can feel his breath tickle his skin. 

"I'm not afraid. Why would I be afraid?" Taehyun asks, laughing. 

"You are. You think if you — if you let up a little, everything will fall apart in your hands. I know," Mino says, he's swaying slightly, alcohol slurring his words. "Will the songs" — he sighs — "turn to dust in your mouth? Maybe? I don't know, Taehyun. I don't—"

"What the fuck are you on about, Song Mino?" 

Mino drops his head to Taehyun's shoulder, arms around his waist in a loose hug. 

"Let up a little. We did good." 

Taehyun leans back against him. 

"Next time we'll do better," he says gently. 

"'Course. 'S us. We're gonna be great," Mino tells him, voice muffled by the collar of Taehyun's shirt.  

 

Taehyun tells himself that it's a mantra and not a broken record. 

 

"I don't know about this," Jinwoo says, tapping his bottom lip with his index finger. 

"What do you mean?" Taehyun frowns. _This_ is his new song — their new song. He's been working on it on and off for months now. He's proud of it. This, he thought when he declared it finished at three AM this morning, when he felt his body finally relax as the obsessive race to the finish line was over, this is a song that will show the world who they are, a song that can get them places. Better places. 

Jinwoo's gaze flickers to Taehyun and his mouth twists uncertainly. 

"I don't know. Let's play it again? Guys!" he calls out. Mino is attempting to teach Seunghoon to play a song on his keyboard. He doesn't think they're very successful; the only sound is their giggling. 

 

They play through the whole thing again. At the end of it, Taehyun feels like he's flying— Right up until he sees Jinwoo's face. Jinwoo leans over the drums, frowning at the music sheet. 

"The bit in the middle," he concludes thoughtfully. He looks up and blinks in surprise when he finds all three of them looking at him expectantly. "Um? It doesn't work very well? Not as well as the rest. The whole chorus is— It's not— You kind of lose the rhythm around" — he scrabbles for the paper and holds it up to show Taehyun — "here?" 

"Oh," says Taehyun. He's fond of that part. "Right. Okay. What do you want to make of it then?" 

"I'm not sure," Jinwoo says. "I don't write music?" He holds out the music sheet for him. Taehyun snatches it from his hand.

"Then don't talk about what you don't know." 

"Taehyun—" Mino starts. Jinwoo shrugs one shoulder. 

"I know it's no good," he says bluntly. 

"You don't know anything," Taehyun bites out, because it's bits of his _soul_ that Jinwoo is stomping on. He turns on his heel and storms out of the room, the paper crumpling in his fingers. 

 

The doorbell rings five times — the long, drawn out buzzing of someone leaning their entire weight on it —before Mino resorts to pounding on the door.

"Nam Taehyun, fucking let me in." 

He sighs and uncurls himself from around his guitar and stumbles towards the door. He won't get any peace and quiet as long as Mino doesn't get what he wants. Whatever the hell that is.

"What do you want?" 

"Fucking finally," is all Mino says, before he shoulders his way into Taehyun's one room apartment. The place is even smaller than Mino's, any notion of furniture besides a bed sacrificed to house his piano. But it's marginally cleaner and he owns a total of six mugs. 

Mino throws himself onto Taehyun's bed, sitting up and folding his legs underneath him. Taehyun sighs. He sits down next to him and kicks at Mino's knee. 

"Get your dirty socks off my bed." 

Mino kicks him back. He sets his feet flat on the sheets and wiggles his toes. 

"What are you doing here?" Taehyun asks again. Mino shrugs. 

"Just wanted to make sure you didn't throw yourself off a building or whatever." 

"I didn't throw myself off a building. I promise not to throw myself off a building in the foreseeable future, either. You can leave now." 

Mino rubs his hands over his face. 

"Taehyun," he groans. He sighs and looks at him. "I also came to see if you were ready to discuss things like an actual adult now?" 

Taehyun huffs. He pushes himself up from the bed and paces his room. 

"That's rich coming from you. Look," he starts. 

"No, you look," Mino interrupts. "You can't just walk away if things aren't going your way. Not if you want to make this thing work." 

"I don't," he says flatly. 

"Don't what? I thought we said—"

"I don't walk out whenever I don't like something. I'd never be in there for more than five fucking minutes if I did." 

"I know it's difficult," Mino says. Taehyun snorts. _He knows_ that that's a blatant lie. Mino loves people. He loves everyone. Nothing appears to give him greater pleasure than being around even utter shitheads. 

He lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, closing his eyes. 

"You don't know anything."

"Right." He can feel Mino's fingers on his cheek, in his hair. "Come on, Taehyun. I came here to help you out."

He cracks one eye open. "Help me with what? Did you bring food?" 

"No. Sorry. I'll call for take-out, though, if you want? I mean, I'll help you with the song." 

"The song is _fine_. Jinwoo," he starts, but he hesitates as Mino looks away. "What? The song is fine." 

"Of course. But it could be better," Mino says quietly. 

He's not sure it can be, not sure he can make any more of it than he already has. He's poured as much of his heart into it as he could stand. 

"I told you, I'll help," Mino adds. Taehyun wonders if his uncertainty showed on his face. 

"No," he says. He shuts his eyes again. 

"Not everything can be perfect on the first try," Mino plows on. "We'll take a look at it and—" 

"No." 

"Come on, asshole, work with me here," Mino coaxes, elbowing him in the side. 

"I'll do it by myself." 

"It'll be fun if we—"

"You'll only get in the way," he says. Mino is silent for several long seconds. 

"Fine. Have it your way." Taehyun can feel the bed dip and bounce back as Mino scrambles up. He hears the shuffle of his shoes. 

He keeps his eyes closed. 

Mino slams the door behind him. 

He loves Mino, he really does. But the music is his and his alone. 

 

He carefully cuts out an extra piece of his soul. 

 

The song is better, after. Perhaps. Jinwoo smiles a private little smile at him. Seunghoon rolls his eyes and punches his arm. Mino doesn't speak to him for an entire hour, but accepts fried chicken take-out as apology. 

 

Taehyun doesn't know how to be anything else, anything but this. All he wants is to make music. He hopes for a world in which he can devote all his time to writing music and singing, instead of having to divide his energy between these lofty ideals and serving annoying customers. Any fame would be incidental, a side effect. He's always been convinced of this. 

They play the new song, the next night at the bar. There's a boy at one of the tables, a mess of curly hair and smiling eyes.

Taehyun sings. The boy looks at him like Taehyun hung the stars and it feels _electric_. He sings his love songs and through the haze of intoxication, the pure thrill that is _music_ , his gaze keeps drifting back to the boy. 

 

The boy comes up to him, when they've finished playing and have trooped off the stage. 

"You're amazing," he says, eyes sparkling. _Seungyoon_ is his name. He worries his full bottom lip between his teeth and Taehyun tries not to stare. 

"Can I buy you a drink?" Seungyoon asks, cheeky smile and hopefully raised eyebrows, like he's mostly expecting Taehyun to refuse. 

"Yes," Taehyun says. He watches the smile stretch across Seungyoon's face and feels himself smile in return. He waves a distracted goodbye to the others over his shoulder. From the corner of his eyes he sees Jinwoo and Seunghoon pull Mino over to a table with a group of girls. 

Taehyun barely tastes his beer. He feels distracted; the way he sometimes gets when he's working on music and there's no one else around. Hyperfocused and so willing to tumble down the rabbit hole. Seungyoon looks soft and soothing to all his own hard edges and he basks in his open admiration. Taehyun talks about his music — for minutes, for hours — and Seungyoon leans in and looks at him like he understands. 

That's what did it for him, he thinks later. The way Seungyoon looked at him from the start, like he saw straight through Taehyun into the music that filled him up. 

Eventually, under the lamest possible guise of having a smoke out back — he doesn't smoke, fucked if he can think of a better excuse — and Seungyoon tagging along like a puppy, he presses him up against the rough wall in the dark and kisses his sweet red mouth. 

"Come home with me?" he asks, mouth wet against Seungyoon's skin. 

"Yes," Seungyoon says. He laughs breathlessly and kisses him back. "Yes, yes, yes." 

 

Taehyun takes him home and fucks him. Seungyoon is warm and pliant. He lies twisted in Taehyun's sheets, writhing underneath him. He gasps and whispers how amazing Taehyun is and Taehyun is drunk on it. He peppers his pale skin with bites and kisses. He fucks him just this side of too rough, until Seungyoon's mouth opens in a silent scream and he arches up beneath him. 

He feels so good, so incredibly good. 

 

   
Seungyoon's still there in the morning. 

Taehyun doesn't mind too much, because in the golden morning light he looks beautiful against the stark white sheets, long limbs splayed out. Taehyun sits up and scribbles page after page full of semi-coherent lyrics. 

"Morning," says Seungyoon when he finally wakes up and Taehyun's pen stills. Seungyoon smiles up at him lazily and stretches out, toes pointed and hands clasped together above his head. The lines of his body are beautiful, distracting. 

"Hi," he replies, voice still hoarse from last night. Seungyoon sits up to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He curls into Taehyun's side. 

"What are you writing?" he asks, peeking at the lyrics. Taehyun hastily flips the page. Seungyoon laughs. 

"Sorry." He nuzzles Taehyun's cheek and presses another kiss to his jaw. "I won't be nosy, I promise." 

"Do you want breakfast?" Taehyun asks instead. 

"Yes," Seungyoon says. He smiles widely, eyes crinkling. 

 

All he has in his cupboards for breakfast are coffee and cornflakes. Seungyoon shakes his head to the first, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Taehyun heaps grounds into the coffee maker and vaguely wonders what he's brought into his home and whether it's human. Seungyoon doesn't mind the cornflakes, though. 

"I really love milk," he explains. 

"I can see that." They're standing side by side at the counter, bare arms pressed together in the narrow space. Taehyun waits for his coffee and watches Seungyoon drown his cornflakes in an ocean of milk. 

 

"Can I—," Seungyoon starts, once they've settled on the floor with their bowls and mugs. Seungyoon's is filled with orange juice. He pauses to put a spoonful of milk and one lost cornflake in his mouth. 

Taehyun quirks his eyebrows and hums in vague encouragement. Seungyoon shakes his head and doesn't continue until after breakfast, when Taehyun pulls his guitar into his lap. Seungyoon reaches out and runs gentle fingers over the curve of her body. 

"Can I try?" he asks. He ducks in close, looking up at Taehyun with wide eyes.

"Um," says Taehyun. He's about to refuse, because no matter how cute Seungyoon is, his guitar still ranks higher than strange beautiful boys, when Seungyoon adds, 

"I'd like to play the song you sang last night. It was beautiful." 

"You play?" Taehyun asks. He's dumbfounded for a split second but, of course, he thinks just as Seungyoon nods, of course he plays. How else would he understand? He hands his guitar over before he can think about it. Seungyoon stretches out his arms for her, fingers wiggling with unrestrained joy. He plays—

He plays from memory and it's half Taehyun's song and half improvisation. His eyes are closed, eyebrows drawn in concentration. 

He plays better than Taehyun ever has. 

 

He plays like a demon, an angel, and Taehyun's hands itch to hold him and keep him. 

 

"What's this guy doing here?" Mino asks when he opens the door. His eyebrows are dramatic. Taehyun steps inside, Seungyoon close behind him. 

"Song Mino, Kang Seungyoon," Taehyun introduces them. Seungyoon smiles and sticks out his hand. Mino takes it reluctantly. 

"Yeah. Nice to meet you," he mutters. "Taehyun, what—" 

"Seungyoon," Taehyun continues brightly, "is our new lead guitarist." 

Mino's wooden smile turns into a grimace and he drops Seungyoon's hand like it burns. 

He looks between them for a few moments. 

"Come with me," he says finally, shaking his head. He grabs Taehyun's arm to drag him outside, throwing a still-awkward grin at Seungyoon over his shoulder. 

"Hold on just a sec, we'll be right back." 

Taehyun pulls his arm free the moment they're outside. 

"What the hell, Song Mino?" he demands. 

"Don't what the hell me!" Mino snaps. "What the hell _you_. I cannot fucking believe you. You can't just decide this by yourself. You can't go and invite someone into _our_ band, just because you're fucking him." 

Mino is loud. Probably loud enough for Seungyoon to hear him; the thinness of the walls is appalling. Taehyun can hear slow footsteps on the stairs, hesitating, when Mino falls silent. Jinwoo or Seunghoon. Maybe both. He lowers his voice. 

"Why the hell not? Jinwoo's here because he's fucking your sister, isn't he?" 

Mino punches him. Maybe he should have seen it coming — could have seen it coming — but despite everything, and there's a heaping metric fuckton of everything, Mino's never punched him before. 

The others must have been waiting behind the doors, straining their ears, because Taehyun has barely staggered backwards before all three of them are there. Loud, noisy, running and flailing. 

He hopes Jinwoo hasn't heard, at least, but he's probably not that lucky. 

Seungyoon is at his side first, a hand on his arm to steady him, before he gets between him and Mino. He still has his guitar on his back. It swings heavily. He turns wide eyes unto Mino. 

"Are you out of your mind?" 

Taehyun wonders, for a moment, whether Mino will punch him too while he's at it, or if Seungyoon will punch Mino. His knight in hipster clothing, perhaps. He curls his fingers in the sleeve of Seungyoon's oversized sweater. But before any of them can do anything Seunghoon and Jinwoo are there, pulling their tight little knot of fire apart. 

"Let's just all calm the fuck down, yes," Seunghoon says grimly, throwing an arm around Mino and steering him back inside. Jinwoo eyes Taehyun and Seungyoon. His gaze flickers to Taehyun's hand fisted in Seungyoon's sleeve. He lets go. 

"Maybe some other time, yeah?" Jinwoo suggests gently. Seungyoon nods. 

"Sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—" 

"No," Taehyun decides. 

"Taehyun," is all Jinwoo says. He sounds tired. Seungyoon squeezes Taehyun's hand briefly. 

"It's fine!" He smiles. "You've got my number. Call me — later? When you guys are finished here? Let me know how it went. I'm, you know, busy with classes anyway, a real band is probably...?" he trails off. 

"No," Taehyun repeats stubbornly. Just like he can't lose Seunghoon or Jinwoo, can't even _imagine_ losing Mino, he needs Seungyoon to be with him — to be with them. 

Because all together, he can almost imagine it. Just a whisper. _They're going to be great_. 

"Come on. I don't know what's gotten into Mino. He's not usually this ridiculous." 

He catches Jinwoo and Seungyoon sharing a look from the corner of his eye, but they both follow him as he pushes into the apartment. 

"Look, just listen to him play," he says before Mino can open his mouth. 

"Fine," Mino says, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. "And if I think he's crap?" 

"I'm throwing you out of the band for having no ear for music," he claims. He can almost see Mino smile. Maybe he imagines it. 

"Um," says Seungyoon as all eyes turn to him. The tips of his ears are red. He whispers to Taehyun, "I've never actually played under this much pressure before." 

"Don't worry," Taehyun says. He takes a deep breath and manages a smile. "You're going to be great." 

 

He listens to Seungyoon play and watches Mino — watches him slowly unfurl, eyes widening and mouth softening, his arms dropping loosely at his sides and trading raised eyebrows with Seunghoon. 

It's beautiful.

 

"You're not bad, I guess," Mino says, handing Seungyoon a beer. Taehyun is relieved because Mino feels a little more like Mino again. 

"Thanks." Seungyoon laughs. He's lying on the floor, guitar still in his arms. Taehyun, Jinwoo and Seunghoon have commandeered the couch, Seunghoon half on Jinwoo's lap. 

"You should teach Taehyun some tricks, now you're spending so much time together," Seunghoon adds, leering at them both. Taehyun throws his empty beer can at his head and Seunghoon squawks as he nearly topples over. 

"Shut up," Taehyun says, without much heat. Despite the rocky start, despite the lingering hint of stiffness in everything Mino does, it's one of the best practices they've had so far. He's still basking in the warm glow of the music. 

 

It works, he thinks. The five of them. They still spent most of the time arguing but he thinks that, maybe, if music is emotion you can't make music together without fighting. It's what he tells himself, anyway. 

Seungyoon settles in with an ease that goes beyond Taehyun's wildest expectations. It's almost frightening, he thinks, and then laughs about it. It's convenient, that's what it is. He's never been the greatest at making friends himself, after all. What does he know. 

It takes a few weeks for Mino to soften back into the Mino he knows. For a while he's less loud, more rigid. There's an edge to him that Taehyun's unfamiliar with. He doesn't know, can't quite keep track of, how his Mino returns. One day he's chatting quite comfortably with Seungyoon about his favorite bands. Before he knows it — _before he can step in, before he can do anything_ — they're planning shopping trips together, to the benefit of neither of their wardrobes. 

On the bright side, — is it a bright side? — Seungyoon manages to fight Seunghoon even more often than Seunghoon and Taehyun declare war onto each other.

"Should we do something about this?" he mutters. Mino shrugs. 

"They seem to be enjoying themselves." 

"What are they even fighting about this time?" Jinwoo asks. He lifts Seungyoon's guitar off of the couch to sit down. He holds it in his lap and absent-mindedly picks at one of the many stickers covering it. Taehyun slaps at his hand. 

"I don't even know if they're arguing, exactly," Mino says. "D'you think this is just how people in Busan talk?" 

"They're very loud." Jinwoo, resident drummer, grimaces. 

"I think they're arguing about who can book us the best venue," Taehyun offers. 

"Oh." Jinwoo looks up, interest piqued. "Welll then, I guess our days at the dive bar are over?" 

"What d'you think will happen if they ever stop bitching at each other and join forces?" Mino wonders idly. Taehyun hums. 

"Better not, I'm not sure we're ready to play the Tokyo Dome yet." 

Mino laughs loudly and punches his shoulder and Taehyun delights, in that moment, at having his Mino back. 

"Nam Taehyun, you would climb on that stage in a heartbeat." 

He would, too. 

 

"Taehyun. Do you want to write a song together? The two of us?" Seungyoon asks one night, chin on Taehyun's shoulder. He's staying the night; he has classes early next morning and Taehyun's place is closer. Taehyun hums. He presses a quick kiss to Seungyoon's cheek. 

"Just let me a work a little bit longer. I'm almost done. I'll be with you in a moment, I promise." 

Seungyoon laughs and kisses him back. 

"It's not about that. I'm serious! I want to help you. I'd like to work together." 

"You don't need to help everyone. It's annoying." Seungyoon tries so hard, he thinks. Too hard. Everyone has their own role in the band, right? Their own place. He wishes Seungyoon would stick to his.

Seungyoon moves back from him and smiles uncertainly. 

"But..." 

"You and Seunghoon, I guess you're really good at the practical stuff. That's — that's good, that's important. It's going well. And I handle the artistic side. I've got a good vision of what we need to be. Don't worry." — he smiles — "It's going to be great." 

"I can write songs, you know. I've done it before," Seungyoon tells him lightly. He lies down on his stomach, chin in his hands. "You're impressed with how I play, too." 

"It's my music," Taehyun maintains. It's all he can say. He bends his head, focuses on the papers in front of him so he doesn't have to look at Seungyoon. He's had this conversation once before and it didn't go well. 

"You only want to sing your own songs?" Seungyoon asks, the surprise is high in his voice and the harmonics of it sound like Mino. Taehyun straightens up with a sigh. He pinches his nose, makes an aborted gesture. 

"It's just—" 

Seungyoon looks at him expectantly. 

_It's my band_ , he thinks about saying. 

"Music," he decides on. "It's important that it's... real. That it's true. To me?" he adds uncertainly, because he doesn't want Seungyoon to leave and slam the door behind him. He puts his pen down and turns to Seungyoon. He presses him into the mattress and kisses him again and again. Seungyoon moves with him, easily, and pulls him closer with eager fingers. 

For a moment.

He stops, makes an impatient little noise against Taehyun's mouth. 

"Hm?" 

"Are you kissing me just to shut me up?" 

"No," he says. It sounds painfully unconvincing. Seungyoon frowns, kiss-swollen lips twisted in disappointment. Taehyun pushes his face in the crook of Seungyoon's neck. 

"I don't want you to get angry and leave," he sighs into his skin. Seungyoon reaches up to tangle his fingers in Taehyun's hair. He gives the strands one frustrated tug, before his fingers soften again and smooth his hair down. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he says. 

 

The next few weeks are a rush. For a while now, _Winner_ has been slowly but steadily moving on from their humble beginnings in the bar of doom and sad beer. The venues are bigger, the people more numerous and more interested in them. 

They haven't been this busy yet. He's starting to actively dream of the moment he can give up his day job. They play several gigs at university parties. Seunghoon gets them a spot at a festival that's a big enough deal that Seungyoon concedes temporary defeat and buys them all dinner. 

Taehyun is extra busy. The more they play, the more they need new songs — better songs. The band needs to grow. He needs to grow, to strive onwards and come closer to making music that truly expresses what he wants it to. 

At the moment he's trying to write a song about... Seungyoon, he supposes. What he feels when he's with him. He's better with words when there's a melody to accompany them and Seungyoon will understand. He's become this important to him, in the first place, because he comes closest to understanding. So, conversely, it becomes more important to make him understand. Like a star that feels within reach for the first time — if he can just stretch his arm out far enough. 

Still, it's difficult. He should be able to put his feelings into words like this, he thinks, but he spends a lot of time staring at a blank page. 

At least Seungyoon is also busy — with classes, probably. He still spends the night but he gets there late enough that Taehyun can work in peace, in secret. 

 

Taehyun is late to practice, having come straight from the gas station. 

"What are they up to?" he asks Jinwoo, nodding at Mino and Seungyoon. They're standing at Mino's keyboard, heads close together. "Is Mino really bent on teaching _everybody_ Wonderwall on the keyboard?" 

"He says it's an important life skill," Jinwoo says mildly. 

"They've been writing a song together," Seunghoon pipes up. "They played us a bit before you came in. It's shaping up well so far." 

Taehyun looks up from where he was unpacking his guitar. He stares — he stares long enough that Mino looks up, meeting his eyes. Seungyoon straightens up as well. He looks confused for a moment but smiles when he sees Taehyun. Mino doesn't smile. His posture is already defensive. 

He thinks, in some ways Mino understands him far better than Seungyoon does. He knows. The bastard _knows_ that Taehyun doesn't want —

"Why?" he asks. Mino shrugs. 

"Because we want to," he says. A challenge flashes in his eyes. He leans into Seungyoon, their shoulders bumping. _Nothing to do with you, Nam Taehyun._

Seungyoon's smile fades into uncertainty as the tension in the room rises. 

"You said you didn't like working together with someone," he starts, "But we wanted to make you a song as well, so we thought we'd—"

They conspired against him. His two — he's not even sure what they are, but he knows they are His Two. 

"I only sing my own songs," he interrupts, folding his arms. "I told you that." 

Seungyoon looks at him, eyes wide, and laughs uncertainly. Taehyun remains immoveable and Seungyoon's laughter peters out when he realizes he isn't joking.  

"Okay," Seungyoon says slowly. He purses his lips and nods. "I'll sing it, then." 

_No._  

A moment, silent, breathless. He doesn't know what to say — or, he doesn't know how to say no loud enough and soft enough. 

Mino laughs, too loud and too forced. He's always been shit at breaking the tension but that never stops him from trying. He slings an arm around Seungyoon. 

"We can take turns," he says. Distributing the blame. 

"Song Mino!" Jinwoo protests. He's just as shit at this as Mino. "I'm a better singer than you!" 

Taehyun waits for Seunghoon to chip in, but he says nothing. He just watches him silently and Taehyun can feel the weight of his gaze. 

He doesn't try to stop him, when Taehyun turns around and walks out. None of them do. 

 

In one afternoon he writes a song about how Kang Seungyoon makes him feel and it isn't a love song. It's trying to right everything going wrong, his world tilting askew. 

 

It's — he lifts his head to squint at the alarm clock — half past one in the morning when he hears the scrape of a key in the lock. 

Soft footsteps. The bed dips when Seungyoon crawls in behind him. He presses close, wraps an arm around his waist. 

"Fuck off," Taehyun tells him. He can feel Seungyoon sigh, warm breath against his skin. 

"I love you," Seungyoon says, voice low and close in the dark. "You know I love you, right? But you're so fucking difficult, Taehyun." 

"Yeah, well, you're a parasite," he mutters before he can stop himself. 

"A what?" Seungyoon asks with a laugh, a huff, of disbelief. 

"Stop trying to take over my band," he says. It is his band. _His_. He created them just as much as if he'd painted them all on canvass. He filled them with music. They all have their place. 

He needs Seungyoon-the-guitarist, who plays so well that Taehyun's heart stutters, who brings his music — his soul — to life. 

He needs Seungyoon to stay within the lines Taehyun has drawn for him or everything— or the music will go wrong. 

"I'm not— Taehyun, I'm not trying to take over your band. What are you even talking about? You're the one who told me to join in the first place."

He pulls himself from Seungyoon's embrace, sitting up straight and turning towards him. The light from the street illuminates the room just well enough that he can make out the shape of him. 

"You're insinuating yourself into everything. Stealing everything," he manages. 

It's his band. The music is his. Mino is his. Seungyoon is his. 

Seungyoon makes a confused noise. 

"Is this all about writing a song? I was just having fun. We're all just having fun." 

"No," Taehyun snaps. "Everyone else is working hard. We're not lazy college students who—"

"I didn't mean it like that. You know that, Taehyun. Of course everyone is working hard. I know how important this is to you. I really do." He reaches out to touch him, but Taehyun snatches his hand back. Seungyoon sighs and drops his arm. "I was just trying to help. I wanted to be a part of it. I mean, you can't control everyone, Taehyun. You can't. You say it's your band, but it's become all of ours. Let us— let us enjoy the music too." 

Taehyun lies back. He can't even talk to the shadow-shape that is Seungyoon. 

"Maybe I should leave. They like you better than me," he tells the darkness. Start all over. But where will he find—

"What? Don't be ridiculous." Seungyoon shifts and lies down next to him, close but not touching. "I'm sorry, okay? It's more your band than mine. You brought me with you." — His hand creeps over Taehyun's again. — "I'll be the one to leave, Taehyun." 

He opens his mouth to speak, but he isn't sure what to say. 

No.

_No_ , it won't work like that, either.

"Just, try to work with the others, yeah?" Seungyoon continues. "Mino is really— he's really good. He'll make you good music, Taehyun. Different music, but good. Listen to his songs, sometime. You'd make them sound amazing." 

Taehyun makes a noise and Seungyoon laughs. 

"Honest! He's smarter than he looks," he jokes. Taehyun knows that. Of course he knows that. There's no one in this world he knows better than Song Mino, after all. 

He knows Mino is good. Amazing. He doesn't want — desperately doesn't want — to hear Mino's deepest thoughts and feelings, wrapped up in pretty words and notes that pluck at his heart. He couldn't shape his mouth around them and pretend they're his. He knows them too well. They're too much. 

Seungyoon's fingers ghost against his. 

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks. Taehyun isn't sure, now, whether he's talking about leaving the band or leaving his bed. 

It doesn't matter, he supposes. _They're going to be great_ , he keeps telling himself, but he can't tell if he's going to be fine. Everything was going so well and he doesn't know when it began to slip. (He knows.) 

His world has already tilted and he needs Seungyoon. 

He needs— He wants so much. He thought that all he ever wanted was to make music, but he wants so much he feels sick with it. 

"Stay." 

 

They're going to be great, he tells himself. They're going to be great. They're going to be great. 


End file.
